Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation-Chapter 503: Power Over Blood

Chapter 503 – Power Over Blood

Lux could taste the static.

The King finally looked up. His eyes... weren’t eyes. They were contracts. Old ones. Ones that bled fine print and burned if you stared too long.

Lux didn’t blink.

"Say it," Kaelmor said, almost tender. "Say the thing that’s about to ruin my week."

Lux stepped forward. "Zoltarin."

Kaelmor froze mid-spin of his pen. His smile remained. But the energy in the room shifted. Sharpened.

"What about my dearly incarcerated ex-greed prince?"

"The seal," Lux said, voice level. "It’s not a prison."

Kaelmor didn’t respond.

Lux kept going. "It’s a protection."

He watched the smile flicker. Just for a breath.

"The seals made by the Sin Lords. But the Greed ones were made by my grandpa."

Kaelmor still said nothing.

"And they haven’t been checked in centuries."

Silence.

Lux stepped closer. "They’ve been weakening for decades. Zoltarin isn’t contained. He’s being preserved. Hidden. Like some stupid royal stockpile."

Kaelmor set the pen down. Finally. The sound was too quiet.

Lux’s voice dropped. "He gave the circlet to a mortal. A lamia. She’s wearing it in the open. And when I fought him, he quoted something before I even told him she existed."

The King tilted his head. "So he’s... awake."

Lux nodded once. "And waiting."

Another silence.

Then Kaelmor chuckled.

It started low. Soft.

Then he clapped.

"Well done," he whispered. "You finally opened the vault no one wanted opened."

Lux folded his arms. "How long have you known?"

Kaelmor just grinned. "Luxxy... do you think I rule Hell because I know everything? Or because I know just enough to let the rest unravel naturally?" 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

He leaned forward.

"And now you know."

Lux’s breath caught.

Because that meant—Kaelmor had never trusted the prison.

He let him rot because he knew eventually...

Someone like Lux would come along and dig him back up.

"Now what?" Lux asked.

Kaelmor’s grin sharpened. "Now we make bets, boy. And see which one of you ends up king."

Lux didn’t flinch.

Because he wasn’t here to play games.

He was here to win them.

Even if it meant burning his bloodline from history.

He stood still, the burn of that soul-wine still on his tongue, arms folded across his chest like a CEO listening to an investor pitch that was equal parts genius and nuclear. The red-gold light from the mana chandeliers above cast a faint glow along the edge of his jaw, and for a second, the way he didn’t blink made Kaelmor lean back with interest.

"You want us to kill each other?" Lux asked finally, voice calm. Too calm.

Kaelmor’s laughter was sharp and melodic, bouncing off the obsidian walls like a game-show jingle. He twirled his pen again with one long, gloved finger, smiling like he’d just been handed the best gossip of the century.

"Maybe," Kaelmor sang, shoulders lifting in a theatrical shrug. "Maybe I want to see how far you’re willing to go. Maybe I’m bored. Or maybe I just want to see if the younger Vaelthorn knows how to use a knife where it counts."

Lux raised an eyebrow. "And what if I cut too deep?"

Kaelmor tilted his head. "Then that’s on you, darling. But let’s not pretend this is new. Zoltarin wanted to take my throne once, remember?"

"You didn’t kill him."

"I didn’t." The King’s smile dimmed. Just a little. "Because Seredor asked me not to."

Lux didn’t move, but the air shifted. The name hit heavier than he thought it would.

Seredor Vaelthorn.

His grandfather.

Kaelmor leaned back in his infernal leather chair, one leg over the other, hands folded now, like the smile had drained out of him and left something quieter. "He saved me once. Long before all this."

He gestured vaguely around the office. The power. The kingdom. The absurdly priced desk imported from the Corpse Forest of Sector Nine.

"Helped me take the throne from my stupid father. Played both sides and left no fingerprints."

A beat.

"He made me promise. That if Zoltarin didn’t attack me again... I’d let him live."

Lux said nothing. He was still processing.

Kaelmor’s voice dropped into something older, colder. "He said as long as Zoltarin didn’t disrupt the balance, didn’t touch my crown, didn’t mess with the Infernal hierarchy or destabilize my banks... then Zoltarin was your family’s problem. Not mine."

The way he said it, it wasn’t cruel. Just absolute. The kind of logic that ruled Hell. Balance over sentiment. Power over blood. Everything else? Collateral.

Lux stared at him for a long moment, then finally let out a slow breath.

Yeah. That tracked.

This was Kaelmor. And this was Hell.

Being the King didn’t mean managing every detail. It meant knowing when to look away. Let the Lords handle their own mess. Too many rules? The system collapses. Too much order? The Lords rebel.

Hell didn’t need a tyrant. It needed a gambler who always bet just right.

"So," Lux said, "you knew about the weakened seal?"

Kaelmor shook his head. "No. I didn’t. But I figured Seredor did something. Something... hidden. Seals, conditions, fail-safes. He was always thinking two bloodlines ahead."

Lux looked down for a second. Processing. He was starting to see it now. Not just the politics. The game behind the game. His grandfather wasn’t just protecting Zoltarin. He was buying time. Crafting a contingency. Positioning pieces.

"And you just honored the promise," Lux said, voice soft.

"Of course," Kaelmor said. "A deal’s a deal. He only asked one thing. ’Let my other son have his throne. Let Zoltarin fade.’"

"Zavros."

Kaelmor nodded. "He was never supposed to be Lord of Greed. You know that, right?"

Lux clenched his jaw, but nodded.

Kaelmor shrugged again. "Zoltarin’s older than you. Older than your father. But he was never a Lord. Never officially. He was just a prince. Favored, yes. Groomed, yes. But never ascended. Not really."

"Because of status?"

Kaelmor grinned again. "Because of power, boy."

The word hissed between them like a loaded dice roll.

"There’s things in Hell," the King continued, "that can’t be reached by bloodline alone. Blood helps. But power decides. Always has."